I Love Your Little Things & You're Still the One
by fishfingersandcustardplease
Summary: One Direction fanfic, specifically about Zayn Malik. A love story, obviously, but not an overwhelming one. *WARNING*: this story contains content about self-mutilation, cancer & suicide. Some content may be triggering, so be advised.
1. Chapter 1

Introduction

Before I launch into the story, I should probably introduce myself. My name is Charlotte, but I prefer being called Carly. I was born in Bath, Somerset, England just over eighteen years ago. At the time period in my life that I'm going to be telling you about, I was in my first year of university and hoping I'd make it to my last. I lived in a tiny flat with my younger sister Rosie, who by law lived with the worst person in existence, even though she spent every night in my guest room. Rosie was the reason I was still in Bath at all.

I hadn't seen my mum in five years. She and my father got a divorce when I was thirteen. At one point in my life I was really close with my mum, but when everything changed and the only contact I got from her was a card on my birthday, I didn't even know who she was anymore. She lived on the other side of England, and I had heard she was a primary school teacher. I guess I was happy for my mum. She was smart; she got out when she saw the opportunity.

I wished I could say the same about me. When I finished secondary school, I could have left Bath forever. Honestly, if it wasn't for my Rosie, I would have. But because I feared for her safety, every day I commuted to Bath School of Art and Design, a branch off Bath Spa University.

My father was a monster. At the time of my parents' separation, he wasn't really bad. He gradually got worse as time wore on. When I was thirteen, my father just had an anger problem. The littlest things set him off. For example, my dad would scream at me if I accidentally dropped something. Or he would yell at Rosie for crying- which only made her cry harder, but the senseless prat didn't think of that. Then he started going to the pub, just for a few drinks at first. But it didn't stay like that. He went more frequently. He started drinking more. His anger got worse.

And then came the hitting.

I still remember the first time my father hit me. He had left for the pub hours ago, and it was just me and Rosie at home. She was fast asleep, as it was some early hour in the morning. The atmosphere was calm and quiet. I was attempting to fall asleep, and just as I had drifted off, the sound of the front door slamming open made both of us jump. Rosie whimpered.

"Shhh, it's okay," I whispered to her, "It's probably just Daddy." Getting up, I tucked her blanket in around her. Rosie laid her bed back onto her pillow.

"Hello?" I called as I walked down the hallway.

My answer came in the form of a crash. I stepped into the kitchen and nearly toppled over my father. He was extremely drunk, that was immediately obvious. His clothes were ruffled, his hair sticking up at awkward angles, and the smell of lager was so strong that I almost gagged.

"Dad? Are you alright?" I had leaned down beside him. He was facing the opposite wall from me. His stillness was making my heart rate jump.

Suddenly, my father had grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, pulling me so close to his face that his nauseating breath washed over me. "What did you say?" His words were so slurred I could barely understand them.

"I… I asked you-" I stuttered.

"You asked if I was alright, eh?"

I nodded.

My father's lip curled. His eyes were deep black pools, slowly beginning to ripple with emotion. I watched it happen. I watched him change from human to monster right before my eyes. The expression on his face shifted from regular man to an angry beast. His eyes were wild and scary. My father looked like a madman.

He hit me across the face so hard it made a cracking sound. I remember holding my hands to my cheek, eyes stinging with tears. Before I could move, he grabbed my collar again. This time my father threw me into the wall. Pain blossomed in the top of my skull. I stared up at him, waiting for what was to come next. But he just strode off angrily, falling a few times as he made his way to the door. Throwing it open, he stumbled down the staircase.

I waited until I could no longer hear the sound of his descending footsteps. Then I sat up. My head ached and my cheek was stinging.

"Carly?" Rosie, just two at the time, stepped into the sliver of light coming in from the window. By the light of the moon, I could see the streams of tears flooding down her face.

"Don't cry, darling," I had whispered to her, holding her in my arms, "Shhhhhh."

"D-Daddy h-hit you."

I hadn't said anything. The area around my eyes had been staring to tighten, and I had felt my throat closing up. Both of those were signs that I was about to cry, and I hadn't wanted to cry in front of her.

My little sister buried her face in my shirt. "It's okay, it's alright. There's no need to cry, love. I've got you, calm down." My reassurances were not just for Rosie, they were for me, too. Because I had known that from then on, our lives were going to be very different.

And I had been right.

After that night, my father only got worse. He disappeared for days on end with no communication or explanation. Those were the good times, though, because once he got home, he wreaked havoc. Sometimes he threw things, like books or chairs. Other times he just hit us with his hands or his belt. He would shout at us, too, cursing and saying terrible, awful things that I don't even want to repeat. My father had become physically and verbally abusive.

I grew up too fast, I suppose. At thirteen, I was handling all the duties of an adult. I cleaned, cooked and took care of my baby sister. All of this was done on a time schedule, because I began to disappear from my house.

My father didn't seem to mind that we weren't in the house most of the time. As long as I had food waiting for him when he got home and our house wasn't a mess- as it would have been had he been in charge of it- he couldn't care less where I was. So every day after I had finished school and picked up Rosie from her nanny's house, I rushed around, cleaning everything and throwing food together as fast as I can. Then we would leave. Most of the time we went to people's houses, like my mates' or cousin Amelia's flat. But when people got suspicious, we would sometimes be forced to sleep in the park or somewhere else secluded.

When I turned eighteen, I officially moved out and bought myself a flat. It wasn't big, but it made not ever really being at home easier. Rosie practically moved out when I did; a large majority of her clothes and toys were in the spare bedroom of my flat. We left just enough at home that my father was satisfied we hadn't fled the country (which I rather wished I could do). He had threatened me the day I turned eighteen that if I tried to take Rosie and leave him behind, he would do his best to have me taken by the Queen's orders.

Now, mind you, my father wasn't pissed every day. He cleaned himself up to go to work. He wanted people to believe that everything was fine, that he was a normal person instead of this horrible beast. He acted fake around his mates and coworkers, and they believed it. No one suspected a thing. And as much as I wanted my life to change, for all of it to stop, I made it so no one ever would.

Being slapped and kicked and hit with a belt leaves marks, obviously. If the evidence of the abuse looked really bad, I wouldn't go to school and I'd tell Rosie's nanny she wasn't coming over that day. But if there was just bruises or scrapes in places that could be concealed, I'd do just that. I covered myself up, hiding the marks. And I did the same to Rosie, although she didn't get hurt as much as me. My father liked to hit me the best. She also wasn't as bruised because I wouldn't let him touch Rosie. I would hide her so even if he decided to go stomping through the house, he would give up after a bit of looking.

All of this emotional trauma obviously affected the way I functioned. I lived three different lives. One was the girl at school, smiling as much as he could force herself and laughing with her mates. The second was the girl I was around Rosie, her strong big sister who protected and took care of her, her makeshift mother. The third was the girl I was on the inside; the girl who, behind the smiles, was terrified. The third girl was the real me. She cried when there was no one to see her. She was afraid every second that her father was coming for them. She hurt inside, and there wasn't a day in her life where she didn't wake up feeling like she was being suffocated. She eventually fell into a terrible habit, one that tore her up as badly as her father's violence.

I began to self-harm. I hated myself almost as much as I detested my father. I was so angry for not being able to get out of there. I was furious that I just took it. So one day, in the heat of the moment, just after my father had left the house, I locked myself in the bathroom. I had been breathing hard, trying to blink away the tears. I had been filled with an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness, misery and desperation. Eyes darting around the tiny room, I caught sight of my father's extra razor blades lying in the bottom of the open cabinet. In an action that almost didn't feel like my own, I picked one of them up and slashed it across my wrist. It hurt at first. But then the pain seemed to sink in. I felt something like relief, as if a high pressure valve inside of my head been released. I did it again and the results were the same. I could breathe again, whereas before I felt like I was drowning.

That was where the addiction began.

They say addiction runs in the family. For example, if your parent is addicted to cocaine, you are more likely to become addicted to drugs than a person whose parents are not addicts, even if your parent is a former addict. Or, in my case, my father was addicted to liquor, so I became addicted to self-mutilation.

So there you have it, that's my backstory. Now we can proceed into the reason I started writing at all. |

Chapter One

"Carly," Rosie's voice broke through my sleep, "I don't have any more clothes."

I opened my eyes. The light in the sky was so dull that I knew immediately my sister had woken me up at the perfect time. It was around 5:30. Our father would have left for work by then, so the house was safe for us to enter.

"Come on, we'll go switch them out," I said. Standing up, I grabbed my keys. I had come up with a plan. I packed a large bag of clothes for Rosie to wear, but never washed them at my complex. Once she ran out of clean ones, I brought the dirty ones back to my father's house. I would wash them at his house, the sight making him feel content that we were still cooperating.

We used his bathroom as well. I had packed myself a bag of clothes for the day and picked out an outfit for Rosie. I helped her take a bath and then showered myself. Rosie came in while I was applying my make-up to cover up the scar on my cheekbone and the dark circles under my eyes.

"Why do you wear long sleeves all the time?" she asked me. "Don't you get hot?"

My stomach lurched. If I were to be truthful, I would have told her that I wore long sleeves to cover the cuts and scars that marred my arms. But I couldn't do that. So I just said, "No, I'm not really hot."

She giggled innocently. "Are you a vampire? Vampires are cold all the time."

"Who told you that?"

"Teresa. She said Edward's skin is always cold like ice." She was referring to the vampire from Twilight.

I smiled. "You're mad."

"I am not!" my younger sister defended herself, "Teresa told me!"

"'Vampires aren't real, Rosie."

"I bet you only said that 'cause you're a vampire."

I shook my head. "Alright, enough. Let's go, Nanny's waiting to take you to school."

"I can't wait until summer holidays," Rosie told me as we got into the car.

"Don't get yourself thinking about the holidays yet. We've got a few months ahead of you." It was the beginning May, although the temperatures felt more like that of the start of August. My classes ended in two weeks, while Rosie had to go to school until the middle of July. As much as my younger sister was itching to be out of class, the students at my university were anticipating it even more, myself included.

Rosie's nanny was waiting for us outside her house. I gave my sister a quick kiss on the cheek and watched them drive off. Then I headed to school myself. When I got there, my two best mates Victoria and Nicole were waiting for me. Nicole was beaming, white Victoria looked rather annoyed.

"'Ello," I said as I approached them. "What's going on?"

"Well my aunt got me a massive birthday present," Nicole explained, "She bought it before they were sold out."

"What do you mean?"

She reached inside her purse and pulled out three tickets. Waving them in my face, Nicole cried out, "She bought me tickets to see One Direction!"

"Keep your voice down!" Victoria snapped. "What are we, twelve-year-old girls?"

"Oy, don't ruin her fun," I told her, "Besides, I think it's brilliant. I fancy One Direction myself. I mean, they are our age."

"That doesn't mean anything. Their fanbase is practically all primary and secondary school girls. We're in _uni_, Carly!"

"No one said you had to come." The three of us started walking to class, Nicole in front, turned sideways to keep up the conversation. "Maybe I'll take someone else in your place."

Victoria's jaw dropped. "But- but…"

"We're going to see One Direction and you obviously don't want to attend, so I suppose you could stay behind."

"I never said I didn't want to go. I just said it was a bit weird that we're eighteen-year-olds going to a concert where most likely everyone in the stadium will be younger than us."

"Like Carly said, the boys are our age. Who cares how old their other fans are?" Nicole stated, "You fancy the Beatles, right? So do my mum and dad, and they're twenty years older than you. But you don't find that strange."

Victoria twirled a piece of her hair around her finger. "Whatever. We're both going to see One Direction with you, I suppose."

Nicole smiled. "It's this Saturday. You're both coming to my flat on Friday so we can finish all our schoolwork. No exceptions!" |

Four days later, I found myself lying in a sleeping bag on Nicole's bedroom floor. Rosie was curled up next to me, fast asleep. We had already completed our work, as it was somewhere around midnight. Victoria had her hand inside a bag of sweets, while Nicole was smoking up the place with her cigarette. I was just trying to get some sleep and feeling thankful my father had not decided to become addicted to tobacco as well.

Out of nowhere, Victoria said, "Mmm, he _is_ attractive."

"What?" Nicole asked her.

"Blimey, they all are! How did I not see this before?"

I sat up, making sure not to shift Rosie too much. "What are you talking about?"

Victoria tilted her phone sideways. She was looking at a picture of One Direction. They looked particularly stunning, all five of them being shirtless. Nicole floated over to see. She let out a puff of smoke when she saw the photograph on Victoria's phone.

I tried to waft the cigarette smoke away. "Go back over there, please." I bent my head in the direction of the window she had been standing at. "I don't want you to smoke around Rosie."

She rolled her eyes at me.

"Secondhand smoke can be fatal!"

"Imagine how bad firsthand smoking is for you, then." Victoria and I had never enjoyed Nicole's nicotine addiction, but she always told us she smoked when she was stressed and needed something to calm her down. She had been smoking since she was thirteen; she was heavily dependent on it.

"Oh, shut up, Tory." But Nicole did as I'd asked, moving away from my little sister and standing by the open window to let the smoke drift out.

"But back to what I was saying," Victoria said, "Why didn't either of you warn me that they're actually really good-looking?"

"We did!" I said. "You just wouldn't listen because you were on about how all their fans are in secondary school."

"Here's a better question, why do girls in primary and secondary fancy them?" Nicole wondered. "I mean, most of them aren't old enough to have a chance."

"Are you kidding me?" Victoria butted in. "Who _wouldn't_ fancy them?"

I gave her a look. "You didn't five minutes ago!"

"I never said-" she began to say.

But Nicole cut her off to finish this well-known statement. "You never said you didn't like them, you just thought it was weird that some of their fans are younger than we are. We know."

Victoria picked up her pillow and threw it at her. "Belt up!"

She giggled. "Whatever. We should probably go to bed." Nicole climbed into her bed, Victoria threw her blanket over her legs and I laid back down next to my sister. In a matter of minutes, I was completely dead to the world. |


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Nicole's alarm woke us up only a few hours later. She was first in the shower, and then I helped Rosie get a bath before I jumped in. Throwing on a bathrobe, I let Victoria get in the shower. Once I was sure she was behind the curtain, I hurriedly pulled on my red sweater and black shorts. Then I went back into Nicole's bedroom to do my hair and make-up.

An hour later, we were on our way to the arena, fully equipped with Starbucks coffee. Rosie was at Nicole's parents' house watching films. The three of us in the car were buzzing from the mixture of caffeine and excitement. The car trip was long, however, so we ran off enough steam to appear normal when we arrived at the arena.

Nicole's plan actually worked. It was hours and hours before the concert was supposed to start. It seemed the only people who were at the arena when we pulled up were those exceptionally obsessed Directioners who had slept overnight in tents. We paid for a parking spot and joined the group. As time wore on, the place gradually started to fill up. Honestly, when I look back at it, the wait was long, yeah. My feet had begun to hurt. We hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep to be functioning properly, and the only thing we had eaten before we left was the little breakfast we picked up at Starbucks. But it was actually pretty fun. We talked to strangers- some of whom were our age, to Victoria's surprise. At one point, the whole crowd sang 'Live While We're Young' in unison. We broke into dance also, doing the Inbetweeners dance and, of course, lots of hip-trusting. It was an interesting and quite entertaining experience.

The three of us had gotten used to the sound of screaming and giggling girls, so we didn't notice the atmosphere changing until someone yelled, "They're coming this way!" A lot of screeching ensued, even some hyperventilating.

"What's going on?" Victoria wondered.

"I think the lads are here." I leaned across the barricade a little to get a better look, but many heads were blocking my view.

"They're here already?" Nicole said, standing on her tiptoes. "Did you see them around the barricade, Carly?"

"All I see is the back of people's heads."

The crowd began to shove forward toward the barricades. The groups who were already standing around it, like us, tried to keep our space. I beginning to feel too crowded, as there were massive amounts of people pressing in around me. The volume of the girls around us seemed to increase every second. I was thinking I could use some earplugs.

Finally, we caught sight of the back of a security guard's black shirt. A group of guards were standing around the lads, preventing them from being grabbed and pulled into the overwhelming crowd. They were stopping in front of each fan around the barricades.

Now, I'll admit, I was excited. One Direction were international superstars, the most famous boy band in the world, having released two albums and were working on a third. People dedicated their lives to them. Their fangirls spent loads of money, drove miles out of their way and sometimes even flew from one continent to another in order to see them. Those lads were famous beyond measure. If they so chose, One Direction could have rounded up an army of millions of Directioners and taken over the world.

And I was about a yard from them, the distance getting smaller each time they took a step.

Finally, the five of them made their way to our section of the crowd. The forward pressure became almost unbearable. Nicole had her video camera out, filming them. Victoria, armed with a marker, was waiting for them to sign her mobile phone. I had my mobile in my hand as well, camera already up.

Louis was first in line behind the security. He came in front of Nicole, who was smiling brightly. "Hey, Louis!" she chirped.

"Hi there," he replied with a charming grin. I was taken aback at how tall he was, but then again, this was in person instead of over the Internet. Louis was also quite dashing, which can obviously be detected from photographs also. But I've learned that most of the time people are either uglier or prettier face to face. In his case, it was quite the latter.

"It's my birthday today," Nicole told him.

"Oh, it is? What's your name?" She told him. Clearing his throat, Louis began to sing 'Happy Birthday'. After the first line, Harry caught on and joined him. Even though it was a simple song that everyone in the world knew, they made it sound like a work of art. Nicole caught the whole thing on camera.

"Happy birthday!" Harry told her. He was definitely cheeky, but he also caring, because he planted a kiss on Nicole's forehead. Louis hugged her sweetly. My best mate looked as if she could hardly contain her emotions.

Harry and Louis stepped in front of me. "Would you mind taking a picture with us?"

"Not at all." I handed Victoria my mobile. Harry gripped the top of the barrier on one side of me and ran his fingers through the railing on the other. I shivered. Once she had taken the photograph, Victoria handed the two of them the marker and her mobile phone.

Liam was next. I didn't get a picture with him, but he did stop for a moment to make a funny face for my camera. Victoria had him sign her cell phone. He added a little message on the very bottom: 'We love you! Thank you for all of your support. x' Victoria leaned into my shoulder, playfully pretending she needed to be held up. I heard her give a little squeal. We'd done it: Tory was in full-on Directioner mode.

Niall and Zayn were the last of the five to come up to us. They were trying to get all of us to dance again. Not many people were taking notice of this effort, but once they got the people in front of them to start, we all joined in. After a few moments, the boys changed direction. About half of us didn't realize this, however, so one section went left while the other went right. I crashed into Nicole, who hadn't seen Zayn and Niall changing the dance. We both laughed.

The people around us giggled, including Niall. His laughter was tremendously adorable, enough to make Nicole cover her mouth with enjoyment. Niall then signed Victoria's mobile, and I snapped a picture of the two of them. Victoria went in for a hug. He held out his arms to me and I stepped into them. All the rumors were true; Niall's hug was the best I'd ever had. It was also one of the only ones I'd ever had, but I suppose even if I had a hug from every member of my dysfunctional family every day it still wouldn't have sufficed.

"Hi, Zayn," I said, "Can I have a picture with you?"

He started talking before he'd even looked at me. "Of cour- hi." When his bright brown eyes caught sight of me, the tone of his voice dropped. The expression on his face changed to one of higher interest. "What's your name?"

"Carly," I told him. I could feel my cheeks burning.

I gave him my phone. Zayn started doing something with it, tapping on the screen when there was no need, as the camera was already up. I began to tell him that, but he just smiled. His grin was partly-shy, partly-mischievous. Then I stepped up to pose with him. Zayn wrapped his arm around my waist, so I did the same. I noticed the picture was rather unbalanced; on Zayn's side, he looked gorgeous, photogenic and amiable; on my side, I was awkward and inelegant, although I did seem comfortable around him. Zayn gave off a sort of calming vibe that made my nerves steady and muscles relax.

"Thanks," I breathed. I reached up to take my phone from his hand. There was a bit of a delay where my hand was touching his. Zayn was gazing down at me. I stared up at him, suddenly captivated. For a moment I completely blanked, which was unlike me. But I was reeled back in when suddenly Zayn looked sideways. The expression transformed to one of shock and dismay.

I followed his gaze. Zayn was looking down at my arm… which was partially exposed. Since I'd reached up to grab my mobile, my sleeve had slipped down my wrist, showing off a few centimeters of my mutilated skin. There was an array of things to see, from especially deep cuts I'd bandaged up to fresh ones that I'd left exposed to older ones that had already faded into scars.

I was filled with the worst feeling of dread and panic I'd ever experienced. Yanking my mobile out of Zayn's hand, I whirled around and ran. I felt his hand slipping away from my waist, trying and failing to grab me. I heard him calling, "Wait!" and then Nicole and Victoria shouting, "Carly?" But I just kept going, fumbling through the crowd in what I will admit wasn't the most proper manner. I pushed people out of the way as fast as I could. My eyes were burning with tears.

Finally, after a lot of struggle, I tumbled into the restroom, slamming the door shut behind me. I twisted the lock so no one would come in. The tears in my eyes immediately began to fall then, running down my cheeks in sheets. I slid down the wall. My knees pulled into my chest, and I held the arm Zayn had seen between them. My body shook.

That moment had shifted from one of the best moments in my life to one of the worst. I was humiliated and ashamed. _He probably thinks I need psychiatric help,_ I thought to myself, _And what if Victoria and Nicole saw? They probably think I'm mental also. There go the only two people my age that actually like me. Three, if you count Zayn, although maybe he was only being polite_.

I laid a hand over my heart. It was beating fast. I sat there crying into my knees, waiting for my heart rate to come back down. |


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"Carly!" My best mates rushed toward me and threw their arms around my neck, choking me in a wonderful hug. For a moment, their words were so muddled together with breaths of relief and high-pitched cries that I couldn't make out what they were saying. But then they stepped back.

"Don't ever do that again!" Nicole ordered, "You had us bloody scared to bits!"

"We were so worried!" Victoria shouted.

"We looked left, right and center for you, but there were too many people."

"I was in the restroom," I explained.

Nicole looked concerned. "What was that about anyway?"

I studied her eyes. There was no sign of apprehension in them, as if she knew the answer but was waiting to see if I would tell her. She appeared genuinely worried and confused. Victoria's expression mirrored Nicole's. I bit my lip. "I was… there were a lot of people…" My voice trailed off. It was a weak lie, but I could tell they believed it.

There was no more time for conversation, because at that moment, the arena lights dimmed and the stage lights rose up. A blonde girl I had never seen before stepped out. She smiled, waving at the crowd. "Hey, guys! How's everyone doing tonight?" She turned out to be a fairly good singer. But once she left, the atmosphere buzzed.

"Give it up for your lads, One Direction!" The screams that followed where deafening. I couldn't even hear the shouting coming out of my own mouth. It was incredibly loud.

"'Ello, Manchester!" the five of them said at the same time.

We cheered in response.

"Is anyone excited for this concert, or is it just me?" Liam said.

"Yeah, y'know, I'm not feeling it," Louis agreed, "They're not really cheering."

"Louder!" Niall encouraged us. I was fairly certain if I screamed any louder my vocal chords would snap. The people in the front must have been rendered deaf, because even from eight rows back I felt as though my eardrums were going to burst.

The music began to play. It was 'Up All Night'. Of course, all of us knew the song as soon as the first note was played. The five of them began to sing. It was a beautiful sound when everyone else joined them, all of our voices blending together. They were jumping around the stage, touching the hands of the fans reaching out for them and, Liam especially, taking pictures of themselves with the mobile phones of unsuspecting fans.

One Direction are great performers. They were all very lively, mischievous and definitely talented. They interacted with the crowd and kept us entertained. The lads did the most random things. They goofily danced, made fun of each other and did stunts. They cracked jokes and sang spoofs of their own songs, replacing words with silly things. Many singers aren't very good in person, but the boys were just as great of singers in the arena as they were in the studio. The lights were blinding, flashing around and making the effect that much more amazing.

Zayn cleared his throat into his microphone, getting everyone's attention. "Alright, now it's time for something that we don't usually do. I want to do something special for a girl that I met today, but I don't know where she is and there are a lot of you." There was a spotlight scanning the crowd. "If you're the girl I met earlier, you should know who you are. Her name is Carly."

"Carly, where are you?" Niall asked. All five of them were covering their eyes and trying to see through the blinding stage lights. The spotlight was still waving about the crowd, searching for… for me.

My stomach dropped. No, it wasn't possible. I had thought that it just had to have been someone else he was referring to. Maybe Zayn had met another Carly. I couldn't believe he would want me.

Nicole and Victoria were trying to force my arms into the air, which was making me uncomfortable. I kept wriggling out of their grip.

"Why don't you come on over, Carly?" Louis playfully sang. I continued to fight against my mates.

One Direction was still looking for me. Zayn's eyes scanned the crowd. There were eight rows of people between us; I had thought he wouldn't be able to find me. But, after several moments passed, he snapped into action. Security followed him the whole way, a group of five guards making a wall to keep out the fans that were going mad around them. Zayn made his way through the crowd until he was standing right in front of me. His landed on us. I felt exposed, although it seemed only Zayn had seen my weakness. I looked at him through the bright light.

"Carly," he said gently, "Will you come up to the stage with me?" I was surrounded by thunderous screams. Zayn's gaze was unwavering, pleading. He held out his hand. Swallowing hard, I took it. The mob cheered. He led me up the stage. Zayn climbed on and then helped me up.

Niall began to play 'Little Things' on his guitar. I sat on a stool in the middle of the stage. Zayn started off the song. When each of them sang their parts, it so real and personal for the first time. Their voices were steady and strong, beautiful. It was magical, being surrounded by the stage lights and having all five members of One Direction serenading me. The crowd was waving their glow sticks and mobile phones in the air. I could feel every note that was played and every word that was sang as if it were a part of me. At the last chorus, there was a breathtaking moment when all five of the lads surrounded me, singing right at me.

"Carly," Zayn breathed, panting after having sung his heart out, "You're beautiful."

The fans shouted their approval. I was staring up at him. I was seriously considering the fact that I may still be back in Nicole's bedroom having a very long and vivid dream about the concert. It was unreal. I had never felt like that before in my life.

"I want you to know that if you ever get to a place where you feel down on yourself," Zayn stated, "We'll always be there for you. All you have to do is put our music on and we're there."

"That goes for all of you," Liam shouted out to the crowd, "We love all of you massively. We wouldn't be anywhere without you, so we want to do the same to you. If you ever need someone, put on our music."

"None of you should ever feel down on yourselves, because there's no such thing as ugly or fat," Niall told us, "No one will ever as beautiful as any of you."

"Each and every one of you are loved," Louis added, "Don't ever forget that."

"As long as you promise to never give up on us, we'll never give up on you," Harry said, "We'll always support you."

That was the sweetest thing. I felt tears spring to my eyes, but for the first time in my life, they were happy tears. I embraced all of them, thanking each one of them.

Zayn pulled me into his arms. "Check your mobile," was the last thing he said to me before security began to lead me back to my seat. |

The rest of the concert went by in a daze of dancing, singing at the top of my lungs and laughing at One Direction's goofiness. Afterwards, we went straight to the car. We had a three-hour drive ahead of us. In the first fifteen minutes, Victoria fell asleep. Nicole looked exhausted, but since she had to drive us home, she forced herself to stay awake. I tried to stay up with her, but eventually I drifted off.

About a half an hour after I fell asleep I woke up. I had remembered Zayn's last comment. Digging through my bag, I pulled out my mobile. My camera was still up, as I had taken pictures and videos during the concert. I hit the home button twice. A bar on the bottom came up listing all the apps I had used. There were only three: the camera, messages and contacts. I didn't remember using the latter, so I tapped on it.

A new contact was already up. A gasp escaped my lips. I sat up straighter in my seat, my mouth falling open. I stared down at my phone, unable to believe it.

Zayn had put his number in my mobile. On the bottom was a note: "Don't share this with anyone, alright? If you ever need someone to talk to, text me. Even if you're not feeling down, text me anyway. x'

"What's a matter with you?" Nicole asked me. I just looked at her. "Carly, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Nic." I laid my head against the window. "It's… really good."

"What's really good?" I didn't reply again. What could I have said? I was speechless. We were at a stoplight then. Nicole was looking right at me, glancing back every couple seconds at the light. "What is so good that you can't tell me?" But she didn't wait for a reply; Nicole grabbed my mobile out of my hand and looked at the screen. She let out a scream.

Victoria shot up. "What? What's happened? Are we alright?"

"We're more than alright!" Nicole turned the car with one hand on the wheel. "This is mental, Carly!"

I buried my face in my knees, but this time to hide the huge, ridiculous grin spreading across my face.

"Someone please tell me what's going on," Victoria begged.

In response, Nicole showed her my mobile. I watched her eyes as she read the screen. They shifted from half-asleep to awake and ecstatic. "Blimey! One Direction serenaded you on stage _and_ Zayn gave you his number?"

"You have _Zayn Malik's_ number," Nicole said, "Carly, he fancies you. Zayn Malik fancies you."

"You're mad!" I replied. "He's just being nice."

Nicole snorted. "That's more than nice. There were over a thousand people at that concert, and he picked _you_ to come on stage and gave _you_ his number."

My head was spinning. All of it was absolutely mental. I had not been that happy in years. I felt like a human being instead of an emotionless robot, stuck in a routine to save her life and destroy it all at the same time. For the first time, all three of my lives aligned; all three versions of myself were in that car, laughing so hard their lungs began to burn.|


End file.
